


Bound

by azumakomari



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, BDSM, Dom/sub, Explicit Language, Gen, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Temporarily Complete, Torture, Verbal Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-13
Updated: 2010-06-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azumakomari/pseuds/azumakomari
Summary: Frank was busy with more than just killing when he met the BAU...(The explicit version of "Goedenacht Maan")





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Bound_ , the official prequel to _Cornered_ , is an expansion of _Goedenacht Maan_. The opening paraphrases a section, while the rest of this chapter goes into greater detail on the bar scene. (Sections found in GM are in italics.)
> 
> [ _Bound_ , _Goedenacht Maan_ and _Cornered_ are all stories of mine.]

_“_ _Who was Frank Breitkopf?_ _”_

_Ananke jumped when she realized that Tom was in the doorway._

_“_ _What makes you think I know?_ _”_

 _“_ _I_ ' _m surprised you're_ _playing stupid,_ _”_ _he replied after giving her a long look. He took a seat across from her._ _“_ _Based on what Deputy Kassmeyer said, you and Frank had a lot in common._ _”_

 _“_ _He liked to_ think _we had a lot in common_ _,_ _”_ _Ananke said, reaching for her glass._ _“_ _That was just Frank_ _’_ _s way._ _”_

_She took a long draft and sat back on the couch._

_“_ _I wish I could tell you that our relationship was completely professional, that I was only his prot_ _é_ _g_ _é,_ _”_ _Ananke said at length._ _“_ _But that_ _’_ _s not the way it started_ _.”_

 

* * *

 

Ananke’s intuition flickered seconds before he leaned in to kiss her. She rounded on him, but the haymaker missed by a quarter of an inch. He caught her hand and made as if to kiss it.

“May I help you?”

“I love a woman with an accent.” His voice was as hypnotic as his eyes, his smile.

Ananke stared at the stranger for a moment before returning to her nachos. He immediately sat beside her, ignoring four other seats along the bar.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“I can afford my own, thanks,” she replied, resisting the urge to flick cheese sauce in his face.

The bartender came by to refresh Ananke’s drink and the stranger ordered a scotch, neat. When they were alone, the man took a long drink and turned to her.

“Frank Breitkopf.”

“Not caring!”

Ananke saw him watching her out of the corner of her eye, as if he found her fascinating. Frank attempted to speak again, but she cut him off with a string of derogatory French.

“I—”

“If you cannot leave me alone,” she said icily. “We will take this outside.”

In a heartbeat, Frank grabbed Ananke’s hand and dragged her toward the back of the bar. Barely glancing around, he shoved her into the unisex restroom and bolted the door behind them. Reeling, Ananke spun around to face her captor, but her back was already up against the wall.

With a surety he hadn’t had a few minutes before; Frank slipped his left hand into her shirt and thrust the right into her pants. Ananke tried to use his distraction to her advantage, but Frank merely squeezed the breast he’d been fondling and pressed their bodies closer together. By the time his left hand slipped around to cup her ass, it was too late. Grinning, Frank shoved a finger inside her and made a “come hither” gesture.

Ananke screamed.

He seized her lips in a scorching kiss as his finger took on a new rhythm. Ananke tried to shove him away, but Frank held the balance of the power. Several agonizing minutes later, he pulled away.

“Did you enjoy that?”

“Let me out of here!” Ananke shrieked, lunging for the door. Her fingers were fumbling at the lock when he caught her and threw her face-first into a nearby wall.

“Oh no,” Frank murmured in her ear. “You’re _much_ too pretty to let go!”

Ananke tried to stomp on his foot, but got a knife resting on her carotid artery for her trouble.

“We’re going to go out there and you’re not going to create a fuss.” His murmurs had turned into a hiss. “We had lots of fun in here, didn’t we?”

Frank eased up on the knife long enough for her to nod.

“That’s right. We’ll go out there arm-in-arm. I’ll pay the bill and we’ll leave together.”

He released her slowly, gently, and unlocked the door. Ananke tried to run when they entered the corridor, but Frank caught her wrist and dragged her to his side. With his arm firmly around Ananke’s waist, Frank paid the bartender and stepped out into the chilly autumn evening.

“Stay with me or the knife comes out.”

Ananke said nothing, being careful to match his pace. They made it to the back of the parking lot without incident, but when they reached an old Airstream, Ananke shied away.

“No!”

This time, he caught her in a headlock.

“You will look at what I have to show you or I will forget to ease up!”

She made a choking noise and Frank reached out to unlock the door. Ananke covered her eyes as a voice shrilled in her mind, but Frank tore them away.

“Isn’t it _lovely_ _?_ So clean, so unblemished…” His voice was warm and wet in her ear. “I bring _all_ my Honored Guests here.”

Before Frank could finish his sentence, Ananke screamed. It was a scream like none he had ever heard, making his very bones vibrate. Ananke drew breath to scream again, but the first had already done its job—Frank threw her to the ground and stumbled toward the trailer. Despite the clamoring in his head, Frank was able to grab the emergency syringe of Ketamine and jam the needle into her neck. Then he, too, collapsed.

~*~

Ananke awoke to a penlight in her eyes. She moaned, then lashed out, cursing in Dutch.

“Get up!”

She didn’t move.

“Come on! _Up!_ ”

Ananke rolled to her side and sat up, sluggish. When he realized she wasn’t going to move any faster, Frank helped her off the bed.

“Stay there and don’t move,” he growled.

Frank stepped aside and Ananke caught sight of her naked body in the mirror.

“What are you _doing_ _?!_ ”

Ananke scrambled onto the bed in an attempt to cover herself, but Frank was faster. Cursing, he clobbered her over the head and hauled her to her feet.

“I said, stand _still!_ ”

After waiting to see if she would obey, Frank began to walk around her, taking great care to examine everything from her hair down to her toenails. Ananke allowed her eyes to stray long enough to determine that they were in a cheap motel room, then resolutely stood still until Frank gestured her back to the bed.

“Before you chose to imitate a banshee, I was about to tell you that you could avoid becoming an Honored Guest.”

Ananke thought back to the trailer. It had been pristine, almost antiseptic, but she knew what it was used for.

“How?” she whispered.

“Become my protégé.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Your ribs will make lovely wind chimes.”

Without waiting for her to answer, he added, “You must obey me totally. No questions. If I say you go, you go. If I say you stay, you stay. And if I say you kill…?”

“I kill.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ananke woke the next morning to find that she was blissfully alone. If Frank had any intention of returning, he had left no sign—indeed, the only thing that kept her from dismissing the incident as a nightmare was the fact that this clearly not her hotel.

Looking around, Ananke discovered her purse sitting on the table and a fresh change of clothes on the chair. No cosmetics were in evidence, but Ananke thought she might have some powder and an old tube of lip gloss in her purse. Along with the comb that always sat beneath her wallet, Ananke realized that she could at least make herself presentable—even if she felt far from normal.

Ananke considered her options as she showered. Frank had doubtless gone through her purse and found out who she was and where she was staying. If he hadn’t found out where she was from, she would be all too surprised. She was tempted to run cross-country, but he would almost certainly track her down. Reaching for the shampoo, Ananke mentally examined her passport. How many days were left on her visa? Maybe she had overstayed—if Frank was stalking her, it would be worth the sacrifice to be deported.

~*~

“I’m sorry, Ms. Müeller, but you have three days left on your visa.”

Ananke had rescued her rental from the bar and driven the 33 miles down to the Dutch consulate in Carson City. The gentleman who had agreed to meet with her was very attentive, but seemed not to comprehend her problem.

“So I would be on my own if I flew back to Rotterdam.”

“You would be on your own, regardless. Immigration and Customs Enforcement will only ensure that you board your flight to the Netherlands; they will not accompany you.”

“Even though I will be killed if I attempt to go home?”

“If someone is making death threats against you, Ms Müeller, why haven’t you reported them to the police?”

“Frank Breitkopf is a sociopath who has countless victims. If the authorities have not caught him by now, I doubt they will before I have safely arrived in Rotterdam.”

The representative gave Ananke a stern look and muttered something about priorities.

“I will see to it that you are allowed to stay at the consulate until you have finished speaking with the authorities. I will contact Immigration and Customs Enforcement and see if they can arrange something.” 

* * *

Three days later, Ananke boarded a flight from Reno to Rotterdam. The police had provided security until her arrival at the airport and Immigration had thoughtfully sent someone to accompany her through the terminal and wait with her until the first boarding call. But Ananke knew better than to let her guard down.  


“We should have left ten minutes ago!” her seatmate exclaimed.

“They’re probably having trouble getting permission to take off.” Ananke’s voice was even, but in the back of her mind, she wondered if Frank had finally caught up with her.

“There’s a commotion up front!” announced someone a few seats away. “A U.S. Marshal is trying to come on, but the air marshal revealed herself and said that he doesn’t have any reason to board.” He paused. “If anything, they’re dealing with conflicting jurisdiction.”

The passenger grew quiet again as the discussion became more heated.

“The land marshal is saying that he needs to escort someone off the plane; that the passenger is not allowed to leave Nevada because of an ongoing investigation.”

Ananke’s stomach flipped.

“I haven’t heard about any investigations,” said her seatmate.

“You wouldn’t, would you?” the gentleman by the window interjected. “They’re hardly the FBI or the CIA, but I’m sure the U.S. Marshal Service has its own secrets!”

Ananke barely heard the conversation around her as she began to pray.

“They’re probably going to have us file off the plane so we’re not all fumbling for our IDs,” her seatmate said after a while.

“Shut _up!_ ” their informant hissed. “He’s coming this way!”

“I don’t know why you didn’t wait in the jetway!” grumbled an annoyed female voice. “It’s not like I would have hidden her in the lavatory and claimed I couldn’t find her!”

Ananke tried to keep her eyes on the seat ahead of her, but a silent compulsion pulled them up. Frank was passing the exit row, a fortyish woman trailing behind.

“I don’t have time to dally, Deputy Howard. It’s best I do this myself.”

Ananke grabbed the copy of  _Sky Mall_  in front of her and started to leaf through it.

“Ananke Müeller?”

She looked up slowly, assuming an innocent expression. When she said something in Dutch, the air marshal frowned.

“That can’t be her—”

“The woman I am looking for is a Dutch national.”

Ananke glanced away, trying not to get hypnotized by Frank’s spotless—and illicit—uniform.

“Are you or are you not Ananke Ingrid Müeller?”

She stared at him vacantly, as if she did not comprehend English.

“I told you to let  _me_  handle this!” Deputy Howard snapped. “I’ll go get a translator and we can start over.”

“Wait!” Frank held up a hand. He waited until he had Ananke’s eye before saying something quietly in French, so that any other speakers within earshot would miss the threat.

“See?” he said as Ananke reached for her purse. “No need for a translator!”

Frank handed Ananke’s purse to the air marshal with a smile, then turned the young woman around and cuffed her.

“I’m sorry to disrupt takeoff, ma’am.”

“Oh, no problem!” Deputy Howard beamed. “Call of duty!”

The three of them reached the front of the plane quickly and Frank gave the deputy his most patronizing smile. “Have a good flight.”

As soon as he heard the attendant latch the door, Frank’s demeanor changed.

“Consider yourself lucky to be alive,” he hissed as he marched his captive up the jetway. “I was tempted to kill you in front of them!”

Ananke did her best to keep her head down as they walked. There was no point in crying for help—if Frank was angry enough to murder her in front of an air marshal, there was no saving her now. He pushed her on for several minutes before stopping to bribe a janitor.

“In here!” Frank commanded. He pushed her into the women’s side. “Handicapped stall.”  


Ananke’s stomach churned. Perhaps it would have been better to commit a crime while she was still in Sparks—other than death; prison seemed to be the only escape.

When they reached the stall, Frank muscled in behind her and locked the door. A purse hook was mounted nearly sixteen inches above her head—it was on this that he strung Ananke’s wrists after swiftly re-cuffing them in front. The young woman was left alone for a moment as her kidnapper stripped off his pants; then she, too, was undressed.

He whispered something in her ear, but Ananke was distracted by one hand snaking around her mouth and the other cupping her belly. Frank thrust and she screamed—he waited a moment before trying again, and gave a delighted cackle when his prisoner repeated her reaction. Soon, he found a regular rhythm, cradling her carefully as he sought his pleasure. It was only her will and his hand around her stomach that kept Ananke from being pounded into the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I know there's no Dutch consulate in Carson City, Nevada in real life, but there is for my story. :)  
> 2\. I couldn't find any evidence that air marshals are referred to as "Deputy _____", so I left it as is.


	3. Chapter 3

Ananke found herself pinned to the icy cement after her left roundhouse connected with Frank’s head.

“You still think this is a game, don’t you?” he snarled. Frank ground her face into the floor, bloodying her nose. “Five weeks I’ve been training you and  _still_  you deny me respect!”

“I’m sorry, Master!” Ananke gasped. “I was trying to hit the bag!”

“You’d be a lot sorrier if you gotten me during target practice—I would’ve taken out more than your nose!”

Frank eased off her back.

“Up, Mouse!” He threw a towel at her as Ananke struggled to her feet. “Go back and get cleaned up. Be ready by the time I return.”

~*~

Two hours later, Ananke had showered and was waiting patiently on the motel bed. Given that Frank always made her sleep on the floor, Ananke was certain that he’d box her ears for this—but she wasn’t about to watch television from one of the uncomfortable chairs. The door unlocked, but Ananke paid her captor no mind until he turned off the television.

“I shouldn’t have to order you to get up every time,” he muttered, yanking her to her feet. “You should rise as soon as I enter.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ananke replied.

Frank slapped her before she could add “Master” and stepped back to take a look. As he desired, Ananke had changed into a set of burgundy scrubs after her shower. She glared at him through the entire inspection, causing her to miss his next words.

“Pull your hair back.”

“What?”

Cursing, Frank spun her around and swiftly pulled her long, blonde hair into a ponytail.

“I want you to stay completely silent,” he instructed. “Do not speak unless I address you. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

Satisfied, Frank took a pair of leather cuffs from the dresser, swiftly buckling them around Ananke’s wrists. When they were locked into place, he produced a chain to wrap around her waist.

“Let’s go.” 

* * *

Only when he locked the opposite end of the chain around one end of the slab did Ananke divine his intentions.

“Put these on,” Frank ordered, passing her a visor and a box of latex gloves. “You’re going to assist me tonight.”

Ananke hesitated as he turned to prepare his equipment, but then thought better of it. Their agreement was that Frank would not kill her if she acquiesced to his request that she become his protégé. The way he had treated her in the last few weeks, it was clear that Ananke’s first refusal could be her last.

When she had donned her safety gear, Ananke looked to Frank for further instruction. No lecture about how much tranquilizer to use or what constituted proper cutting technique was forthcoming, however; her captor simply said,

“Scalpel?”

She blinked. “Wouldn’t it be more expedient to use a reciprocating saw or even a circular saw?”

The corners of Frank’s mouth twitched as if he was delighted that she had made such a suggestion.

“We’re not surgeons, we’re killers. Killers don’t have to be careful.

“Besides,” he said airily, accepting the proffered scalpel. “The idea is to inflict as much pain as possible.”

Under Ananke’s watchful eye, Frank sliced neatly into the flesh below the victim’s patella. When there was no response, Ananke glanced over to see if the woman was still alive.

“What did you give her?”

“Ketamine,” Frank replied, carefully filleting the tissue. “Enough to keep her awake, but not so little that she can fight back.”

Ananke’s eyes met that of the victim, who could not have been more than nineteen. When she finally looked back at Frank’s progress, Ananke was disgusted to see several feet of exposed bone and waves of blood.

“I think I’m going to be sick!”

“Sink’s over there.” He gestured idly to the far corner of the trailer. “Just stay the hell out of my way!”

Ananke struggled past him and retched almost as soon as she bent over.

“You’re going to have to learn to tolerate this sometime,” he reminded her as he reached for a bone saw. “You  _are_  my apprentice!”


	4. Chapter 4

But when Ananke would learn, she never found out. They spent the next six months traveling the country, sometimes staying in town only long enough for Ananke to catch a few hours of sleep while Frank found his next victim. A few times, Frank decided to take his protégé at the last minute, but those decisions almost invariably meant that she would be left outside the trailer reading a magazine and pretending to be camping.

Most of the time, however, Ananke spent hours on her back in a dingy motel room. Frank preferred to keep her chained to the bed, so that he could quickly find satisfaction if he came back from the hunt unfulfilled. The worst of these nights occurred when they were four days into their first trip to Nebraska.

~*~

For a reason he had failed to make known to her, Frank chained Ananke’s neck to the foot of the bed, carefully cuffing her wrists so that she would be forced to watch whatever came on television. Worse, he had produced a large ball gag before he left, gleefully announcing that he’d picked it up before they left Wyoming. 

Several hours passed and Ananke’s eyes glazed over by the time Frank returned. She didn’t move, hoping that he would assume that she’d fallen asleep with her eyes open, but the flurry of movement at the other end of the room was unmistakable. In moments, Ananke felt impatient fingers tearing at the locks on the back of her head. The young woman barely had time to stretch her jaws before something thick and warm forced its way into her mouth.

Ananke tried to scream, but Frank only thrust harder, causing her to choke. She closed her eyes and tried to drive the feeling out of her mind, but was firmly rebuffed by the grunting of her master and the steady rhythm of her head against the bedstead. Frank’s erection seemed to last forever, but only a few moments passed before his juices sprayed the back of her throat.

He stepped back, a lazy smile crossing his face, but Ananke was already concentrating on something else. Startled by her rapt expression, Frank glanced down. And screamed.

Although she had been too distraught to think about in the first week of her captivity, Ananke had finally recalled her supernatural abilities. There were many in the world who claimed that they were Witches, Sorcerers and other practitioners of magick, but Ananke was the only one she knew with actual powers. No one in her lineage had ever shown so much as a tenth of her talent.

Now, as Frank watched in horror, Ananke shrunk his genitals and wiggled her fingers to turn them a gangrenous shade of black and blue.

“You may  _think_  you know everything about me,” she said in Dutch. “But you still have much to learn.”

* * *

After that incident, Frank seemed a little more subdued. Ananke had little doubt that he was planning revenge; but until that day came, Frank seemed keen to leave her tied to the headboard, as he had before.

The arduous physical training continued right alongside the occasional rape, but no mention was made of Ananke accompanying him anywhere until they were heading west once again.

~*~

“There’s someone I want you to meet when we get back to Golconda.”

Ananke, who had been savoring the memories of the sunny afternoon she’d escaped to Fisherman’s Wharf, took several minutes to cotton on.

“I didn’t think you would have me as an assistant again after I failed to be much help that night in Pennsylvania.”

He waved off her response.

“There is a woman I’ve been… _fraternizing_  with…since before you were born. It’s high time you meet Jane Walker. A word of warning, however.”

Ananke nodded.

“For reasons unbeknownst to most of humanity, Jane believes I’m an alien. She conjured this belief when I abducted her at age nineteen and she has told everyone in town since, earning her the nickname ‘Crazy Jane’.” 

“I suppose you do not wish me to disabuse her of the notion?”

Frank gave her a small smile.

“Jane is going to think I captured an angel.”

“How will she believe I’m an angel if you have me cuffed and collared?”

He stopped brushing her hair long enough to smirk at the mirror. “I have to keep you from ‘flying off to Heaven’ somehow!”

At Frank’s insistence, Ananke had donned a floor-length white gown and matching sandals. Far from looking angelic; however, the gown was sleeveless with a sweetheart neckline, leaving Ananke to suspect they were catering more to his fantasies than to Jane’s.

When Ananke was appropriately attired, Frank produced a set of cuffs and a collar in white leather and trimmed with gleaming brass hardware. The young woman had submitted to these without complaint, then allowed herself to be seated in front of a dusty mirror near the door of the barn. Her captor had been working for nearly a quarter of an hour and Ananke was impressed at the halo of golden blonde hair that gleamed in the last rays of the sunset. A moment later, Frank laid aside the brush and attached a leash to her collar.

~*~

“Say  _nothing!_ ” he hissed as a rumpled woman opened the window.

“Frank? Is that you?”

“Jane, darling! I brought you an angel!”

Ananke had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at his sudden change in attitude.

“Oh, Frank! An angel? Stay right there—I’ll come down and see it!”

“No! Stay there! I…ah…”

Surprised that Frank was at a loss for words for perhaps the first time in his life, Ananke muttered, _“Fly!_ _”_

“I…ah…have her on a leash, but there’s still a chance she might fly away! Or worse, she might vanish! You know how touchy angels are.”

Frank had backed himself into a corner. He’d tempted Jane with a marvelous present, then gave her an excellent excuse to avoid giving it to her.

“Now what?” Ananke demanded in a low voice.

“Make her stop loving me.”

“I can’t do that!”

_“Quiet!_ _”_

Frank beamed up at Jane, doing an excellent job of pretending that he wasn’t having an argument with her present. After a moment, he muttered,

“I know you can—Nebraska!”

“Nebraska was luck! I was choking because you were fucking me in the mouth!” Ananke exclaimed. “But I cannot yet control my powers—I am not an adept!”

“Frank? What’s wrong?”

“I changed my mind!” Ananke smirked…her projection sounded just like her captor’s voice. “Come downstairs! _Hurry!_ ”

“I’m coming!”

When Jane was gone, Frank spun his protégé around.

“What did you do that for?”

“Screw her until she forgets your little mistake,” Ananke said serenely. “I’ll be in the haymow when you get back.”


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s time for you to learn how to kill.”

Ananke glanced down to find a course guide opened to “Emergency Medical Services”, the headline highlighted. She laughed.

“Isn’t that a little contradictory? Or did you forget that Emergency Medical Services is about  _saving_  lives?”

“In order to be a proficient killer, you have to understand the human body…and the human mind.” Frank smiled into his strawberry milkshake. “A wise person once said, you cannot harm if you cannot heal.”

Frank’s explanation did nothing to decrease Ananke’s amusement. On the contrary, the young woman had a wide smile as she sucked on her chocolate malt with apparent relish.

“We’re moving to—” Ananke flipped back to the cover and grew wide-eyed. “Thousand Oaks, California? Ma— _Frank_ , that’s off the hunting trail!”

“ _You_  are moving to Thousand Oaks. I’ve called in some… _favors_ …to set you up in an apartment and ensure your tuition. I am not content to leave you alone, but my…contacts…assure me you will not be left unsupervised.

“Bear in mind,” he continued, after another sip of milkshake. “If I hear of the _slightest_ misconduct, I will fly to California and retrieve you  _personally_. I will also come down to check you at the completion of every westbound segment of the hunt. You will never be truly alone.”

“Only one problem,” she replied, snapping the guide closed and passing it back. “All my academic records are still in The Netherlands. And we will be in Thousand Oaks in less than a week.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Frank smirked.

* * *

He was the first one she saw when she walked in that night. She was floored by his endless milky brown eyes, his windswept chestnut hair and the shy smile that said, “I want to introduce myself, but I don’t know if I dare.” She returned the smile and quickly made for the desk on his right.

“May I sit here?”

“Sure,” the young man said breathlessly.

She unpacked her satchel, smiling and pretending not to notice he was watching her when she settled in a moment later.

“Cody Foster.”

“Clare Williams.” She shook his hand.

“Where in England are you from?”

“Coventry. I came over five years ago.”

They chatted for a while before the professor called the class to order. At the last moment, Cody leaned over and whispered,

“Want to get coffee later?”

Ananke smiled.

* * *

More than a year passed before Ananke was forcefully reminded of her previous life.

Thanks to Clare’s sparkling academic record, Ananke was able to finish her program in a few semesters, most of which put her into Cody’s classes on a regular basis. The days that weren’t spent holding hands through lectures—and more than a few labs—usually culminated in dinner somewhere far from campus.

Whether by sheer luck or by a matched set of dazzling references, Ananke (who preferred to think of herself as Clare) and Cody were hired as paramedics at the same hospital. Though they weren’t partners, Cody and Clare often found time to snatch a quick kiss and a few words in the breakroom before their next run. More importantly, their days off frequently coincided, allowing for rollerblading, long walks and the occasional trip to the beach. They had been dating since the first day of class, but Clare had never been tempted to tell Cody her secret.

~*~

 Though she was in the middle of a rare three-day weekend, Clare found herself helping her coworkers at a park on a crisp fall afternoon several months after graduation. After an hour, she no longer remembered what caused the incident, but it scarcely mattered—as long as the patients were stabilized and shipped off at regular intervals, her work was getting done. The team was so efficient that Clare didn’t notice the dwindling numbers until there was only one rig left.

“Where’s Aleesa?”

“She went with Greg and Tammy.” Cody snapped off his gloves. “Said something about helping Tammy keep the patient stable.”

Clare didn’t think very much of Aleesa leaving her partner behind, but said nothing as she repacked her jump bag.

“Thought this was your day off?”

“You know me—when duty calls…”

Her boyfriend smiled and settled onto the ambulance’s bumper. “You should’ve been a nurse.”

“Then I never would’ve met you.”

“I think we would have found each other eventually.” Cody smiled.

“You’re not going to say something mushy, like ‘we were meant for each other’, are you?” Clare sat down and Cody put his arm around her.

“Not unless you want me to.”

More was said, but Clare heard none of it; not even her own words. Everything fell away from her mind in a heartbeat when he started kissing her. Minutes passed, perhaps hours before the real world intruded.

“You need to get back to work,” Clare gasped.

“And you need to get back to your day off!”

They shared one more brief kiss, then hugged upon rising.

“When are you off again?”

“Saturday.”

“Saturday,” Clare repeated. “Until then…”

Cody snatched at her hand, trying to bring her in for yet another kiss, but Clare pulled away and waved goodbye. He blew her a kiss instead and hopped into the cab as Clare slipped through the trees. When Cody was gone, she stopped and knelt in front of Frank, wordlessly presenting her wrists for cuffing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ It's been a while since I've seen the relevant episodes, but I believe someone said that the cuts were very neat, like the unsub had medical training. So that's why Ananke became a paramedic.
> 
> ~ I decided at some point (probably after I wrote this) that Ananke ran away from home at thirteen, so I'm not sure how likely it is that she even has a GED--especially since I've never decided what year she snuck into this country.
> 
> ~ I introduced Cody as a balance to the cringiness of Ananke's relationship with Frank...I'm sad he couldn't have stayed around longer, though!


	6. Chapter 6

When he pounded so hard that the door began to bow, Clare backed away and considered the drop from her second floor balcony. Before she had time to act on that decision, however, her thoughts were interrupted by muted conversation in the hallway.

“Well, I don’t know,” said a concerned female voice. “I thought I heard her come home about 11:30 last night…and it sounded like she ran out for groceries this morning, but I can’t be sure…”

Another knock on the door, this one quite a bit gentler.

“Ms. Williams? Are you in there? You have a visitor.”

Mrs. Crawford, the widow from across the hall. Clare cast around the room, then hesitated. Somehow, she hadn’t managed to purchase her own handgun during this period of “liberal captivity” and she didn’t think it would be wise to greet her neighbor with a giant steak knife. Clare didn’t like going to the door armed with nothing but a smile, but she didn’t have any other options.

“Hello, Mrs. Crawford.” The young woman tried to make her smile look convincing.

“Hello, dear. I was just talking to—”

“My friend.” Clare shot a smile in Frank’s direction. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the door sooner, I was…indisposed. Would you like to come in?”

“No time.” Frank’s tone was clipped, professional. “We’re going to be late for our appointment.”

“Oh. Right. Let me get my purse.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Clare saw him tell Mrs. Crawford how nice it was to meet her—without taking his gaze off his protégé.

“Shall we go?” 

~*~

Frank was unusually silent and composed all the way back to the trailer.

“Are you going to fight me on this one?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Certainly.” Frank paused by the door, smirking. “If you don’t do it, I’ll kill both of you.”

Ananke started up the steps, but he blocked her way.

“You know why I’m doing this, don’t you?”

“Of course. You’re a sick fuck.”

Frank reached out to slap her, but Ananke caught his wrist.

“Oh _no!_  You’re not going to get ‘Master’ out of me anymore. I’m done licking your boots. You wanted a partner, you got a partner. Now shove off!”

Ananke pushed past him and slid inside, carefully averting her eyes from the table until she’d finished scrubbing in. Only when she was ready to slip on her gloves did she look down at her victim.

“I’m sorry, Cody,” she murmured. “I should have told you I was a serial killer’s apprentice.” Her left glove snapped into place and she turned her eyes skyward. “And then I had to go and fall in love.”

On a whim, she kissed him on the forehead and reached for a newly-sharpened dagger. Cody whimpered, but Ananke’s eyes were on Frank.

“Small cuts,” he muttered.

Without so much as flinching, Ananke reeled back and drove the dagger through her boyfriend’s heart. She paused long enough to make sure he had stopped breathing before withdrawing the blade and handing it to her master.

Frank smacked the dagger out of her fingers and threw her against the wall.

“You _insolent_ —”

“You said  _kill him_ ,” Ananke snapped. “You didn’t say  _how_.”

He reached for her again, but Ananke shoved him aside and retrieved the dagger.

“I’ve done your dirty work. Now leave me the hell _alone!_ ”


	7. Chapter 7

The next several weeks were pure hell. Ananke’s phone rang constantly and Frank left so many loud, intimidating messages that she finally shut off the ringer and unplugged her answering machine.  He began to drop by two or three times a day to bang on the door, but always managed to disappear when the neighbors called the police. When hospital security got wind of her problem, Ananke found herself protected at every turn, and work truly became her refuge when Frank finally exacted revenge by canceling her lease.

Her peace ended a week and a half into her search for a new apartment.

“Didn’t think I’d figure out you’ve been sleeping in the doctors’ lounge?”

Clare glanced up from repacking her jump bag. She had heard that an older gentleman had shot himself in the foot to get someone’s attention, but had assumed that it was because of a cute young doctor. Now Frank loomed in the doorway of the lounge, looking less-than-ferocious as he dangled off an IV pole.

“Not only are you a sick fuck, you’re a  _dumb_  fuck!” she snapped. “If they had gotten curious and checked your blood against a database, they would’ve made you in a minute!

“Worse, you’re slipping. That trick was old when you were born.”

“But it worked.” Frank smiled.

“Shooting yourself in order to see me was worth the chance of going to prison for nearly thirty years of murders? Did you  _really_  think that through?”

“You were avoiding me—what could I do?”

“Maybe stop chasing me?” Clare snapped. “I told you I was done.”

“Your boyfriend’s death does not mean a successful final exam.” Frank had resumed his usual tone, but Clare recognized the look in his eyes.

“You didn’t have me kill Cody because you wanted to ensure my loyalty; you had me kill him because you wanted me for yourself!” She shook her head. “How do you expect me to fall for you when you forced me to murder the man I loved?”

She expected him to sneer something about lust, but he simply wheeled the IV pole closer and looked into her eyes…then kissed her.

Clare tried to pull away, but thoughts of Cody drew her in and she responded with an unusual amount of grace. They lingered for quite a while and when Frank came up for air, Clare pushed him away.

“Get lost!” she growled. “You’ve wasted enough of my break already!”

He watched her in amusement, then sauntered out of the lounge, murmuring something about never truly being alone.


	8. Chapter 8

Ananke woke to someone kissing her forehead—and moaned when she realized that she was bound once again.

“I’ve always sought pleasure for myself…my own release…” Frank purred as he ran his fingers down her bare chest. “I haven’t taken very good care of you, have I?”

For once, his touch was like a lover’s…caresses where she might like them most, kisses in her erogenous zones…and a sultry smile as he dipped below her waistline. His talking ceased as he focused on the art of oral pleasure and Ananke was grateful—except that her whimpers caused him to work harder.

Relief was slow in coming, but Frank was not yet spent.

“Would you like it a little... _gentler_...than I’ve been in the past?” He gradually made his way up her body, until he was sitting astride. “Or perhaps you would like it a little _rougher?_ ”

Without waiting for a response, her captor thrust—slowly at first, then faster until they had assumed a pleasant rhythm. Ananke did not want to admit it, but she was actually enjoying herself. Finally, when Ananke thought he would pass out from the act, Frank came in a startling finish; his captive howling through her bindings. He grinned and rolled aside.

“Okay…maybe that was more for me!” 

* * *

That night was the last freedom that Ananke knew for a long time. Frank kept her by his side constantly and seemed unusually keen to never let her go. Ananke began to welcome him to her bed and eventually, Frank responded in kind, often taking his leave before the first light of morning. At last, he set her free to hunt on her own, always drawing her back into his arms with a more than friendly welcome at the end.

It was after one such separation that Ananke received a note from Frank. It read, simply:

 

_Meet me in Las Vegas_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "To be continued"? Maybe. But I posted the last chapter approximately seven years ago (I'm reposting this in 2017) and haven't touched it since, so that's why I'm marking it complete for now.


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